Itinerant: A Pilgrim Quest

[Gargulec]

Itinerant:
A Pilgrim Quest

​

You grew up among the Lief people, in the house of Reda, son of Rada, from the line of Reik, who was a companion to Otha, who was the first king of the Liefs. Of the world, you know as follows: that beyond the tall fence that guards your home, there are the fields of the clan, tended to by the sons and daughters of Reda, and through the fields leads a narrow path. That if you walk the narrow path, you will reach the edge of the woods before you can recite the name of the saint thousand times. That the path continues into the woods, and if you walk it from the hour of daybreak, then before noon, you will find the fields of Bran, who is beholden to Reda, and that beyond the fields of Bran, there are the fields of Arny, who is beholden to Reda, and farther still, there are the fields of Maro, who was free, but three winters ago was struck with misfortune and offered himself to Reda, so that he would not perish, and now is beholden to him, and that beyond his fields, there is only forest. You also know that the narrow path branches near the fields of Arny, and if you walk it until the hour of sunset, you will reach the crossroads, and enter the paved road. The paved road will take you all the way to the mighty city Grace, where the bishop resides, but that is four days of marching from the house of Reda, and it is dangerous to go there, because the paved road leads through woods full of brigands and wild beasts, and that along it, there lives Rivo, from the line of Avro, and he is an enemy to the people from the house of Reda.

And you know that beyond the city of Grace, where the bishop resides, there is a wider world still, and that somewhere within it, somewhere far away, in a realm where grass is as sharp as knives and honey as bitter as wormwood, there is the city of Step. And you know – you have heard about it plenty – that it is in the city of Step that the First Among Saints beheld the name of the God. And that there is no place as sacred among all the lands of man, and that in the sanctuary of the First Saint, all miracles come to pass, and that when the time is ripe, it is there that the Name of the God will be inscribed on a slate of sapphire and placed high, so that all may learn it and all may become saints.

You know all of this, but you have yourself never ventured farther than the fields of Maro. All the more surprising was your decision, when one winter day, you took in your hand a stout oaken staff, the mark of a pilgrim, and declared before many witnesses that you would walk all the way to the city of Step to seek blessing where the First Among Saints had lived.

You have always listened close to the stories brought by Reda, from the king's wars he fought. He embarked on them each spring and returned each summer, with booty of silver, gold, furs and weapons and captives, and then, over the long evenings of autumn and winter, he spoke of what he had seen and what he had heard. And so, you know how dangerous is the world; how the realms beyond the city of Grace are under threat from the Seafarers and from the People From Beyond The Mountains, and how kings and dukes all war with each another, and how piety and goodness of spirit seems lost from the world of man. But that does not discourage you. Your decision, your quest, is not born out of folly. There is a reason for it, a reason that justifies marching all the way to the city of Step, even if you do not know the way.

After all, you are…

[ ] A kin-slayer in search of absolution. The blood of Reda is on your hands, your father's blood. You might have been justified in what you did, but it is not in the capacity of man to forgive a father-slayer. No wergeld can ever pay for what you did to your family. Only in the waters of the Sanctuary can this sin be absolved, and you can return to your clan.

[ ] A concubine in search of honour. It was against all the customs of Lief people for you to swear that you will make a pilgrimage to the Sanctuary, when on his deathbed, Reda gave you your freedom back. An oath is a matter of honour; a trait of free men, not for concubines, not for women. But you will prove them wrong, and will not be forsworn.

[ ] A desperate in search of a miracle. Your brothers are dead or captured. Your father is crippled. Soon, your house will fall, and with it the line of Reik. But you, the youngest of Reda's daughters, will not allow that to happen. In the Sanctuary, miracles are given to all. So you will go there, and bring back one that will save your clan.

[ ] A bastard in search of power. Your are Reda's firstborn, even if from a concubine's womb. Your brothers may not respect you, and may want to rob you of the inheritance that should be yours, but if you return to home of Reda with the bless of the First Saint, none of them will dare to question that you are indeed his heir to be.

***
​

So!

This Quest is set in a setting that is heavily based on early middle ages post-Roman Europe – that is late seventh to early eighth century. Players take control of a man or woman who decided to leave the world she knows for the sake of an ultimate journey: a pilgrimage to the Sanctuary of the First Saint in the distant city of Step.

The narrative in the quest will be taking place strictly from the point of view of the player character, which means that player knowledge of the world is limited to what the character knows, and learning about the world beyond over the course of the pilgrimage will be done as organically as possible.

The focus on the quest is on journey and exploration of the world that may or may not be a fantasy one; although from the perspective of the main character who believes the miracles of saints and curses of malefactors to be real, the difference may not exist.

I will be striving for historical accuracy of the realities encountered by the character, within bounds of reason. However, the setting is not late Merovingian France, as much as it may appear to be at times, and therefore I will be taking some liberties here and there. If anyone is interested, I can present the list of sources I use for reference. I will also gladly answer questions regarding origin of specific setting elements.

For the time being, this will be handled narratively, without dice rolls.

So! Hope this works out.

 

[Gargulec]

The Pilgrim
called by some the Little Lynx​

You are the daughter of Reda, son of Rada, from the line of Reik, who was a companion to Otha, who was the first king of the Liefs. Terrible misfortunes have befallen your family, and with your father terribly wounded and your brothers slain or captured, you swore to make a pilgrimage to the distant city of Step, and there in the Sanctuary of the First Among Saints, ask for a miracle so that your clan may be delivered and its fortunes returned. You have a name, but, for now, it remains unimportant. However, you have taken on the moniker of "the Little Lynx."

Itinerary:
On the first day of your pilgrimage, you departed from your family's home, towards the mighty city of Grace.

You reached the city of Grace on the seventh day of your journey.

On the eleventh day of your journey, you left the city of Grace to take a river route to the city of Breakers

On the eighteenth day of your journey, you ceased to sail the river route, and entered the bogs between the city Charm and the city Breakers.

On the twenty first day of your journey, you arrived in the home of Ulla the Hammer.

Virtues:
First among your virtues is literacy. You were taught letters and the language of White Wall, and so you can read and write.

Second among your virtues (even if you sometimes question whether it is a virute at all) is the knowledge of the value of things. From merchant Reik you learned what is the coin's worth and now can appraise the value of items that you see.

Third among your virtues is ferocity, and knowing that your body will give in before your spirit does. From it stems the fourth of your virtues: you are a warrior, who fought, and did not cower.

Boons:
You carry the Book of Roots written by pious Desiderius. From it, you can learn much of the world. It also contains many glosses by other venerable authors, which may provide an unexpected source of wisdom. (Once per update, you may consult the book on a single subject, and hopefully find some information within)

You also carry the Rye-stalk Spear, which belonged to a man named Cu, and which you took to carry it to his home on the Rosemary Island, so that it can be returned to his family. It is of the finest workmanship.

Wealth:
You have some items of value on your person, namely: a signature medallion from Gresius, the bishop of Grace, a fur cloak (which would be worth 12 solid, but is damaged and caked with blood), a fibula (worth 1 solidus) and 12 denars.

Blessings:
You have dedicated your pilgrimage to Saint Odo of Grace, patron of the desperate, and you carry his blessing.

Scars:
Humiliated: you have learned that your honour means nothing, if you you are not mighty enough to protect it, and how easy it is to strip one of dignity and plunge them into the depth of despair. You have learned that shame does not kill.

Rebellious: having once agreed that the laws of the world are unjust, you can longer submit to them and find it proper. In your heart, you grow to be an outcast.

Mysteries of the Book of Roots:
Some of the glosses within the Book of Roots seem to be penned by a different hand and refer to strange notions and concepts; their origin remains as of yet a mystery all in itself.

Thus far, you have found the following (although you have not yet read all of it it):

A gloss to law human and saintly: ???
A gloss to diseases: Nothing on the diseases of the deep.
A gloss to swamps: They also belong to the third law.​

 

[Gargulec]

So, a desperate in search of miracle won. I am pleasantly surprised by the voter turnout, hope it is a good sign.

0.1: That Damned Roof
​

Reda son of Rada returned from the king's wars later than usual, in the octave of the feast of Saint Arnulf, late into the harvest days. He brought little in line of booty and no captives, but instead he carried home an open wound in his side, and news of defeat. The warriors led by the king's son were ambushed by the treacherous Seafarers, and in spite of many deeds of valiant defiance and pious might, they were defeated, and a full third of them slain or captured, among them Rida and Ryda, two sons of Reda who had marched with him when the summons to ost were sent. You wept at the news and prayed for their safety and deliverance, while Reda promised that the next year, the king would certainly defeat the Seafarers once and for all, and they would be rescued and returned to the clan, safe and sound.

​

Summer passed quickly, and winter came early, and it was for you a time of mourning. The wound on Reda's side would not close and would not mend, and he swore that it will not heal until his sons are all safe. Then Erdia, who was the wife of Ryda and pregnant with his child came to the term, but contracted a terrible fever and passed away, and the child followed his mother into the embrace of the Saints. Then Maga, who was your younger sister, also fell deathly ill and died of fever on the eve of the feast of Saint Corvo the Exile. Then came the time of the thaw and Rada, youngest son of Reda, went hunting in the woods, and was found three days later by Arno, a red-fletched arrow in his back. A great lamentation was held when his corpse was brought in, and Reda raised himself from his bed of misery to tear at his hair and robes over the corpse of his son and said: "Let the day perish on which I was born, and the night that said 'a man is conceived''. And as his son was consigned to the ground, he returned to lay on his furs and did not raise from them no more. And Ethal, a priest from the city of Grace who presided over the rites said: "You must have sinned against the Saints that they punish you so" and he said: "Praised be their holy name!" and over the grave of your brother, you praised them, for they are just.

​

But it was not until that damned roof started leaking that you had made your decision.

​

Early one morning, you saw water pool near the chest where the velvets brought by Reda from wars were stored. And you noticed a hole in the roof, where a shingle had rotten. Old Marga noticed it too and wailed: "Oh, it is a sign that the house will not stand! Woe is our name!". You agreed with her, but went on to search someone who could patch the roof. But your brothers were dead or captured, servants dispersed and father bed-ridden. And when you had complained about that to old Marga, she wailed again: "Oh, what can we do against the decrees of the Saints? If they will the house to fall, let it fall, and if they send a miracle to save it, let it be saved". You agreed with her. But truth be told, something in her stance struck you as dishonest, so remembering how your brother once did it, you went ahead patched the rotten shingle yourself, even if roughly. And when Marga opened her mouth to give you a word of reproach, you sighed and said: "If it takes a miracle, fine, I will walk to the end of the land, where the First Saint lies, and bring one back". Perhaps your voice did not come off as pious enough, or there was too much anger in it, but Marga said: "Oh, but you must be mad! Your father will never let you do such a thing", so you sighed and walked to where your father slept by the fire, covered in furs and woke him and told him about your plan.

​

He listened to you quietly, sent you away, and pondered until the sun went down. Then, he summoned you, to ask one question, for it brought him pain to speak: "What makes you think you can walk to the city of Step, that is so far away?"

​

And you swayed him with your words:

​

[ ] "For I am wise. Do you not remember that Ethal taught me the letters? I speak the language of Liefs, and the language of the White Wall. With that, I will walk to the city of Step."

​

[ ] "For I am strong. Do you not remember that I fought off warrior Varo, son of Rivo, who tried to abduct me, until my brothers could assist me? With that, I will walk to the city of Step."

​

[ ] "For I am crafty. Do you not remember that I learned tricks and cunning from Rida, who was next only to Saint Corvo in his wits? With that, I will walk to the city of Step."

​

[ ] "For I am pious. I put my fate in the hands of the Saints, for it is theirs to do with it as they please. I don't need more to walk to the city of Step."

 

[Gargulec]

Between faith and wisdom - which as a learned man would say, are both paths to the same ultimate end - wisdom won. Our as of yet unnamed pilgrim is wise.
​

0.2: Reda's Blessing​

In a time when you were still a child, Alban, the abbot of Mons Clavo visited the home of Reda, and a great feast was held in his honour. As it is the custom amongs monks to listen to holy scriptures while they eat, your mother – who was of the White Wall people – endeavoured to impress the abbot with having you read from a beautiful book of gospels (which was once a part of her dowry). She taught you the shape of the letters and how to pronounce them, and during the feast, you repeated them from the book, and the monks all praised the family in which the word of the Saints is thus revered. But Alban then asked you to say what was that you read, and you again repeated the letters, but not the meaning behind them. Seeing you well-disciplined, but lacking in understanding, he took the book in his hands and begun to explain the gospels in the plain language of the Lief people, so that all could equally understand it. And such was his eloquence that all had to agree that it must be a mark of a saint, and true to this, when in latter times he passed from the world, many miracles were witnessed around his body, and he was counted among those who behold the name of the God.

Thus did you learn that the language of the Lief people is not the same as the language of the White Wall, which is the language of prayer and scripture. And as you were curious, and eager to learn, your father permitted Ethal – who, at that time, was spending the winter in your home, for the snows were particularly severe and he could not safely return to Grace – to teach you more. On the days when your father went hunting, and Ethal, who was lame in one leg and could not keep him company, he instead tutored you in the letters and language of White Wall, until come spring you could read from the book of gospels and explain the stories within almost as aptly as a novitiate in a monastery. Although your mother was greatly impressed, your father – at that time – remained indifferent, and your brother Rida mocked you for it, saying that now you would not be married to a man, but rather sent away to a coven, to live a lonesome life.

You had not practiced that skill since – as the book of gospels was promptly given to Erdia as her morning gift by Ryda, and though there was also a book of wisdom that your father took in one of his wars in your home, it was kept locked in a chest, for it was a great treasure. Therefore, you spoke it without much hope, and feared that your father may not see as a reason enough to let you go. But as you mentioned your skill to him, he stirred among his furs and lifted himself up, even though he felt gross pain at such movements, and he commanded the family and assemble to bear witness. And so in front of Rado the Old, who was the brother of Rada, and Ethal the priest and Leo, son of Maro, your father bade you to kneel and he put his hands on your head and invest on you his fatherly blessings in such words: "May she walk all the way to the city of Step and compel the Saints through her piety, so that our clan will not perish from the face of the land". And great was the surprise of the witnesses, to see a daughter of Reda given such a task, for it seemed to them unlikely that a female, known for the softness of her heart and muscle could endure a journey as difficult. But Ethal reminded them that the wife of the augustus Decius had marched all the way from White Wall to the city of Step, and so the determination of the pious should not be derided. Then, they accepted your task and put a staff in your hand, and before them you made a promise that you would leave for Step as soon as spring clears the snow off the forest routes.

Your words, full of resolve, cheered your father and he gained a measure of hope that you would restore the clan to greatness. Once again, he stirred in his bed of misery, and commanded you to pick a boon that he might grant you to aid you on your long march. You asked for...

[ ] The book of wisdom, war-won, in which many secrets of the world were explained by the pious author Desiderius.

[ ] Wealth, coin, jewels and rich cloth that could serve you well on your way, when other means would fail.

[ ] A weapon, that you could carry to defend yourself from the many threats which await a traveller on his road.

[ ] Nothing, for the house had lost enough, and you would not take from it what could serve it in the time to come.

 

[Gargulec]

So, after an unexpectedly close race, the Book of Wisdom won. Also, I am sorry if the text if of lower quality than usual, I am currently away from home and have to write in distinctly unfavourable conditions.

0.3 The Book of Roots​

It seemed that no one among the gathered found your request surprising, and so presently was the book delivered into your hands, from the chest of war-spoils in which it was stored. It was a tome of considerable size and weight, bound in wood and leather, with a deep gash cut across its front, as if a blade had been wielded against it. Yet, the text was well-preserved, and, with some difficulty (for the scribe's hand seemed to you an unsteady one), you read from one of the pages:

"Pollio first made libraries, Eastern as well as in the popular language, for public use at White Wall, with statues of the authors added in an atrium that he had built most magnificently from spoils."

At that, you finished and rummaged through the tome some more, to uncover that it was truly filled with wealth wisdom and knowledge, concerning all manner of things: from the nature of lands and cities to an enumeration of beasts of the wild. Furthermore, you had also noticed that on the margins of many pages, there were notes, written by a different hand, of the kind that you knew to be classed glossa in the language of White Wall, and which were often authored by learned men who wished their knowledge and observations to the tomes that were in their possession, for posterity. And so, the book seemed to you a great treasure, and though you thought about how would it be a no small burden to carry it on your back to all the way to the city of Step, it still cheered you to have in your hands.

***
​

You have unlocked the Book of Roots, written by the servant of the Saints Desiderius. The book holds many secrets, and although large and unwieldy, it can be used to gleam information about the world! Once per update, you may now try to ask for a word or term and see if it is explained in the book. It also includes many a gloss, which may contain secrets and wisdom beyond what the holy author had himself written!

***
​

Over the course of the next few days, you undertook more preparations for your pilgrimage, eagerly awaiting the tell-tale signs of spring that would indicate to you the right time to embark on your quest. However, the thaw had receded, and the winter was returned, and it continued almost to the day of Saint Gerulf's Ascension. However, Saint Gerulf, watching over those who provide for their families, decided in his grace to grant you some good fortune, and so on the day of his feast first snow-drops were spotted among the snows and within days, the arrival of spring was indisputable. With it, only one thing remained before you could commence your pilgrimage, and that was to dedicate your efforts to a Saint, so that you would not be thrust onto your way without protection and guidance.

There were some among the Saints you knew that seemed particularly well suited to your task. First among them was Saint Mavo, who was the patron of the itinerant, and was often invoked by priests and monks who had to make long journeys; Ethal was among his followers. Then was Saint Atharius the Martyr, who was the patron of the learned and who gave blessings of rhetoric and dialectic. Then was Saint Odo of Grace, who was the one to care for the unfortunate and ill-fated, and to whom the hopeless and the desperate often guided their prayers. And finally, there was also Saint Corvo the Exile, the patron of the crooked and banished, of those who are known to be like rabid wolves, unfit to live among men of good fame, but need their patron all the same.

On the eve of your pilgrimage's start, you found your way to a small shrine that was raised from stone by Rada, in thanks for having his son delivered from a deathly illness. There, before the altar-stone, you knelt and asked for a blessing from…

[ ] Saint Mavo.

[ ] Saint Atharius the Martyr.

[ ] Saint Odo of Grace.

[ ] Saint Corvo the Exile.

 

[Gargulec]

So, Saint Odo of Grace won! The update will appear later today. Before then, have something else. This is technically styled after works from a somewhat later time than the Quest should mimic, but I could not help myself.

The Golden Legend of Saint Odo of Grace
​

Odo comes from the the word odun that is how the word praise looks in the language of the Liefs, and so his life was one of raising his voice to up high to venerate the Saints with utmost devotion. His father was Adon and mother was Ethla, and he was born in the city of Grace. From his earliest years, he was well devout and oftentimes would stay in a temple until late and night, and only leave when his mother came to plead for him to return home; he complied but he always knew that his real home is in the house of the Saints. His father wished him to become a warrior, at which Odo wept many tears, for he wanted to offer his life to holy works instead of war, but he was a good son and would not disobey his son.

The Saints, however, who always aid those that would be close to their hearts, heard of his plight and sent down a servant of theirs, by the name of Sebastian, who was a very holy man. He arrived in the city of Grace to become the bishop, and during a prayer that he presided over, he heard a voice sweet and filled with sadness, and the lamentation shook his heart. He ordered the one who prayed to be brought before him, and so was young Odo put before the bishop and asked: "Why is your prayer so sweet, and yet so sad?" and he answered: "For it is my desire to lead a life of a pious man, but my father will have me become a warrior and be married to a woman". And so Sebastian the bishop asked for the father of Odo to be brought before him and asked him: "Do you not see that your son's heart belongs to the Saints, not to the things of the earth? Let him be released from your rule, so that he may be granted a tonsure by me" and the father of Odo, stricken by the piety of Sebastian the Bishop soon complied, and Odo was accepted into the bishop's service, and performed admirably in all tasks set before him.

All the time, he also fasted and performed mortifications of flesh, until his face, which was very beauteous, grew pale and desiccated, but even then, he would not allow himself rest and comfort and slept on bare stones of the floor and ate only rotten bread and stale water. And soon his body was covered by a terrible stench, and even other men who served Sebastian the bishop asked for Odo to be thrown from his mansion, for he looked worse than a slave and a beggar, and flies surrounded him. But he would not allow that, until Odo himself asked to leave, for even to sleep under a roof seemed too much of a luxury to him, and he would rather go to live in a cavern with wild beasts around him. And so he did, and became an eremite outside the walls of the city, and would not see a man for ten years.

After that time, however, he heard a voice telling him to return to the city of Grace, which now was deprived of both of its holy men (for Sebastian the bishop passed away of old age) and returned to idolatry. And he entered the city's main square, covered in mud and filth, and with a bread that reached from his chin to the ground, and saw that the people of the city were corrupt to the core, and piety and good religion had been all but exiled from the city's walls, and all praised their idols and performed great depravities.
And people of the city gathered around him, for they thought him a quaint sign, in the manner of a jester or a barbarian, and to them, he spoke against their sins, and his voice was like thunder or a bell of bronze, and all that heard him were cowed.

But then came the soldiers of the city's lord, who was first in all manner of blasphemy, and said: "If he is allowed to preach for longer, he will surely turn the people of the city from their ways!" and they grabbed him from the square and threw him into prison, without bread or water, so that he would waste away. But miracle of miracles, when each day they would come to see if he had already wasted away, they would find him in health even better than the day before, and after a month, he looked as hale and young as he had been when he was a lad and around him was the fragrance of flowers and incense. For he had beheld the name of God in the times of his hermitage, and so became one of the Saints.

And that he could not be tormented with hunger, it angered the lord of the city, who ordered him drawn to the main square and hacked to death with axes, and with prayer on his lips, he departed from the word of the living to the world of true life, to watch the name of God in full forevermore. And the hands of those who tortured him were all instantly touched by rot, and on the lord of the city such terrible retribution was invested that it is sufficient to say that upon his demise, his body was thrown into a ditch for dogs to gnaw on, for no one would allow it to be buried in their land.

A certain man was ambushed on the road by terrible brigands, who robbed him of all of his possessions and left him bleeding. And he was found by another man, who was crooked, and who saved him to sell him as a slave, and put him in irons and mistreated him severely. But they passed by a shrine in which a relic of Saint Odo was held, and the man prayed for his deliverance, and suddenly his irons rusted away in an instant, and wounds were mended as well. He fled from his captor and hid in the church, and when the crooked man came after him and demanded from the monks to release him back to him, he suddenly found that he cannot move his legs and was forced to kneel by a divine force, and would not stand up until he gave all of his possessions to the man he wanted to enslaved. And thus was faith rewarded and injustice punished.

 

[Gargulec]

And so, we are officially off the chargen and into the quest proper! Again, the post may be a bit rough around the edges. Normal service will resume tomorrow.

1.0: Alone​

In the shrine, there was a painting of Said Odo, rendered on a plank of wood. In one hand he held an axe, the instrument of his martyrdom, and in the other, a stalk of rye, which is known to grow even on the most barren soil. Before it, you knelt and offered him your prayers, speaking his name a thousand times, until the sky above turned black and then grey. In the end, you left feeling weary and with a chill in your bones. Yet, for all the failings of the body, your soul felt reinvigorated and refreshed, and you were filled with a sense trust that no matter where the journey ahead will take you, you will never be bereft of guidance and protection.

***
​

You have acquired the Blessing of Saint Odo of Grace! Aside from filling you with determination, it is also something you believe can help you in the times of desperation, where all your actions seem a lost cause! But be careful not to invoke it too often, for it is a mark of the Saints that they value those who give, instead of asking.
​

***
​

On the morning of the next day, you left, alone, with a staff in your hand and a sack on your back.

At first, it was planned that you would travel to the city of Grace along with Ethal, but as the spring blossomed, the ailment of Reda only grew more severe, and so the priest decided to stay, to provide companionship to him and, should the Saints will it so, see to it that he would pass from this world in a proper manner, all the better to secure the true life awaiting him. And so Ethal – who himself did not know what road leads to the city of Step – bade you to seek the bishop of Grace, whose name was Gresius, and ask him for guidance, as the men of faith are obliged to grant pilgrims all assistance necessary.

You made your farewells. To your father, who was so deep lost in a fever that it seemed that he did not recognize your departure, to grieving old Marga who saw it as certain that she would never see you again in the flesh, to old Redo, who blessed you as well and made you promise that you would not perish among the wilds of the world and to the grave of your brother, and to all the others who still resided in the house of Reda, for you yourself, all truth be told, felt daunted by the uncounted miles to go, and all the terrors of the world.

In the sack you prepared for yourself, not much could fit beyond the book, a bit of bread and cheese, and a wineskin. You put on yourself a long dress, and a fur cloak over it, held by a silver brooch (which was called fibula in the language of White Wall). To your belt, you strapped a knife in a scabbard trimmed with silver, and set with a pair of mountain crystals, and also flint and iron. Thus outfitted, and cursing the weight of the book on your back, you walked beyond the tall fence that surrounded your home, and took the narrow trail leading you through snow-patched fields towards the border of the woods ahead. Old Marga walked you off, still wailing, up until the edge of the forest, where she turned back, and for the first time in your life, you found yourself alone in the world.

You did not dwell much on that feeling, though, because you had to make a decision. The city of Grace was a few days away, and it did not seem that much of a good idea to sleep the cold nights of early spring away under an open sky. There were several ways to prevent that. Easiest seemed to you to rest in the home of Maro, who was beholden to your father and should offer you hospitality. Still, he lived some way off the road to Grace, and it would mean making your journey longer. You also remembered that there was said to be house built near the point where the woodland trail crossed with the paved road, sometimes used by traders and travelling priests. Finally, you also had some recollections of Davo the pig-herd speaking of a secret forest trails that the woodsmen used when they tried to make their way to the city of Grace, and of a camp that they had set along it. You did not know much beyond that, but it seemed easily the quickest way to the city, if you were to find them.

In the end, you decided to…

[ ]Make your way to the home of Maro, the slowest and safest of solutions.

[ ]Make your way to the crossroads and rest at the hut there, which also seemed safe and more expedient.

[ ]Seek the secret woodland path, easily the fastest route – if you do not mind the risk of getting lost.

 

[Gargulec]

The secret woodland path won, somewhat to my surprise. Well then!

1.1 Forest​

With the image of your ailing father haunting you, you chose haste over caution, and decided to seek the woodland trails that the pig-herd spoke of, to reach the city of Grace expediently. This desire had to be ascribed to the eagerness of your spirit; now that you had departed from the land of your birth and gave yourself to the road, you had little want for dalliance and even less care for safety. And so having put your life in the hands of the Saints, you thought yourself to be guided by them, for you chanced upon what looked like the route the pig-herd mentioned near the fields that belonged to Arny. With no hesitation, you took it, and entered the deep, dark forest, which was in that time of the year still bare of leaves and mostly lifeless.

You followed the faint trail for the better part of the day, making good progress, even though at times it felt as if you were losing the sight of it; snow still laid between the trees, not yet swept away by the spring, and it obscured much. And sometimes, your heart raced, for you saw in it impressed the tracks of many beasts, wolves and boars and perhaps other creatures that by the will of the Saints inhabit the depths of the forests, and emerge from it to punish the sins of men. And there would be no shame in admitting that you were not entirely free of fear yourself – for the woods seemed to grow ever thicker as you marched on, and soon the branches above your head were entwined together, so that you felt almost like walking through vaulted halls, and the silence that reigned around had hardly a calming effect, merely reminding you of the fact your solitude.

Yet, all seemed to go well, until well after mid-day, when the sun was hanging low on the vault of the sky, and shadows around you lengthened and darkened you noticed that you had passed by a particularly gnarled fallen trunk of a tree for the third time, and were walking in circles for quite some time. And you felt your heart stop at the realization that you had unknowingly lost the trail some time ago and were now well and truly lost. Around you the woods spread equally in all directions; all mighty trees and deep ridges and running creeks and dry brushes and beds of pale-green moss and lichen peeking from under melting snow. And none of it seemed any familiar, and even if you wanted to return home now, you would not know which way to go.

Once, when you were a child, you asked your brother Rida – who was next to none (but perhaps for Saint Corvo) in his wits, and knew the forests as if he had been born in them, and from hunts, he always returned carrying a rich bounty – how far do the woods go. And he pondered for a while, for it was not an easy question, and gave you the answer that follows: "If a man was to walk through them in a straight line for ten years, he would still not see the end of them". He then offered to take you into along with him into them, but you declined; it was at that time that you were receiving lessons from Ethal, and did not want to miss them.

And now, in that vast, trackless realm, you were lost, truly and entirely, and the warmth of the day seemed fleeting and the shadows of the evening seemed growing and somewhere in the distance, but not far, the howls of beasts rang loud and savage, for a woman had entered their kingdom, and they were hardly gracious hosts.

There was little time left before the coming of the night, and then you were certain that the beasts would cease howling, but rather bare their tooth and nail. A thought occurred to you to attempt to retrace your steps and perhaps return to whence you came; it would be difficult and would cost you a lot of time, but maybe, just maybe, would allow you to find your way back. Otherwise, you could try to seek a den or a cave and there try to set a fire, and survive the night in such a way. Or you could try to cry for help; perhaps the woodworkers that Davo spoke of were nearby and would come to your assistance. And if all else failed, you could always try to travel all night, as long as there was strength remaining in your muscles, hoping to escape the woods and maybe find the paved road that way.

In the end, you chose to…

[ ] Retrace your steps.

[ ] Seek shelter.

[ ] Cry for help.

[ ] March on, blind to the danger.

 

[Gargulec]

So, with minimal voter turnout (slow Sunday?), the shelter option won.

1.2 Night​

You turned from looking for a way out of the woods, and instead went on searching for a place that would allow you to weather the night. Blessing of the Saints must had been with you on that evening, for it was not long until you found a mighty tree, knocked over by wind and age. Its roots, once far-reaching now stood upright, tangled, tongues of moss hanging from them, and beyond them, in the pit that once held the tree's trunk, under the roof of rotting wood, you found a den of sorts, closed from the worst of the wind and weather, and large enough for you to fit in, if you were to curl. It was hardly a comfortable shelter, but it was shelter none-the-less, and with the chill growing ever more pronounced, it was all that you could ask for.

Briefly, you tried to set a small fire to warm you up, but there was little in line of kindling that you could find, and even less when it came to fuel; and both of your attempts produced little but smoke without and light and warmth. In the end, with the night almost upon you, you returned to your hiding-hole, prepared for a night of discomfort.
And perhaps to cheer yourself up in the face of cold and dark, you turned to the pages of the book of wisdom for consolation, and opened it to a random page, to catch but a few words of it before the last of the light was to fade. And by chance by alone, your finger landed on the description of the Lief people, among whom you were counted, and thought it took you a while to do so (for the text was written in cursive, and light was faint) you read it, learning the truth of your origin, which left an impression on you:

The Liefs are thought to have been named after a certain chieftain of theirs. Others reckon that they were named for the brutality of their behaviour, for their behaviour is wild, with a natural ferocity of spirit.

And with that, the last of the day faded away, and you could read no more, so you hid the book in your pack and wrapped yourself tight in the fur cloak, thus warding the cold. The moon and the stars did not emerge, for instead a thick cover of clouds covered the sky, and the wind rose to a howl. Between its voice, and the calling of the beasts of the wild, you could hardly sleep. The cold reached you despite the best of your efforts, and the chill spread, becoming numbing, so that you could barely feel your limbs.
Discomfort turned into misery and worry into fear, and you trembled. You tried to speak the words a prayer, but found little solace in them, and it seemed to you that you would be lost on the first day of your pilgrimage, that your bones would rot in the woods, being sustenance for carrion-feeders, and that your family would perish because of it, never learning of your fate. Such doubts ravaged your soul, but in the darkest moment of the night, you reminded yourself that you are the blood of Liefs, who are named after their ferocity, and as faint of a reassurance that was, it was enough to carry you through until the sky on the horizon turn grey and in the faint light of the breaking dawn, you saw that in the night, snow fell, and the forest around you was draped white. Slowly, you crawled from your hiding holes, and thankful that it seemed you had not yet succumbed to the weather, you emerged into the forest again.

And although you had endured the night, with snow covering yesterday's tracks, and the appearance of the land altered, you felt even more lost than before. For a time, you wandered in the weak light, watching the day break, and motion returned some warmth to your limbs, but provided little else beyond. You ate a bit of bread and a bit of cheese, and they were both running short, and drank some wine to reinforce yourself, but the dread and fear that troubled you did not go away.

You marched forward blind, quickly and carelessly, thinking that if you were to sit still and consider, the full weight of your despair would surely overcome you, and you would give in to it and to the grim fate that awaited. But no path offered itself to you, no sign of men's hand, as if the land had never suffered under the axe or plough, and even the birds that sung their songs above, indifferent to your struggle, appeared unafraid of your presence, as if they had not been taught to care for hunters and their bows and traps.
But it when the hope you clung to seemed to slip from your grasp and even the motions of your limbs grew slow and sullen, that you heard a voice coming from behind the trees, raising and failing to the cadence of a prayer; and for a moment your heart raced, for it could signal your salvation. But you also knew that so deep in the woods, vile spirits dwelled, that would take great pleasure at leading men astray and into traps.

With that in mind, you…

[ ] Called out in the direction of the voice.

[ ] Attempted to sneak on it, and perhaps see the source before making yourself visible.

[ ] Avoided it and continued your blind march.

Note: Since you did not have much time to properly search the book, it only gave you some heart-lifting bit of trivia! Do not be discouraged to use it, but rather try to find more favourable conditions to read it.

 

[Gargulec]

Sneaking up was the order of the day! Also, I apologize if the quality of today's (and yesterday's) offerings is lower than normal, but I am currently suffering through a nasty cold, which is totally to blame for everything wrong with the post below, and never you think otherwise.
​

1.3 Hermitage​

Guided by the sound of the prayer and careful not to make a sound, you approached through the woods and dry brushes, until between two trees, you a clearing and a man standing on it. His hands were spread wide and turned up towards the sky, and he sung the praise of the Saints that they willed it so that he would see another day rise. He seemed elder to you, and his vestments were plain and ragged, and a long beard descended from his chin almost to his belt, as grey as the cloth he worse. With that, you concluded that he must be a hermit of sorts, one of those pious men who abandon the world of the living and seek refuge from it in the wilds, all the better to venerate and worship the Saints, and seek perhaps a way to learn the name of the God in the solitude that surrounds them, so that they too can be counted in the holy host when the time finally comes for them to abandon the temporal. You found it a clear sign; Saint Odo to whom your pilgrimage was devoted did to spend long years in the shelter of the woods, away from things of the world. Therefore, that you managed in all the vastness of the forest to find such a man must had been a work of the Saint watching over you.
Thus, believing you have nothing to fear, you stepped from between the trees and into the light, so that the eremite could see you. And he noticed you, but did not address you, instead continuing his prayer until he finally spoke the final sacred name, and lowered his hand and whispered "so may it be" in the language of White Wall, and only then did he turn to you and said:

"Wanderer, it is cold out here and my bones are old, so please let me offer you the hospitality of my humblest of abodes, where whatever you brought to me can be discussed freely."

His voice was a quaint one, and he spoke the words as if his tongue was no longer used to them. But his offer was a kind one and you could not deny it to him. And so you agreed, and he led you through a trail that was a very faint one to a small hut, similar in shape to the shacks raised by shepherds, and of likewise modest size. He removed the plank from the door and let you in, soon setting putting on fire in the fire-pit. You crouched by it and put your hands near the flames, and enjoyed the warmth slowly returning to your limbs, while the hermit busied himself, paying little attention to you.

Eventually, he sat across you, and after speaking a short prayer over them, offered you a loaf of bread and a pitcher of water, and still in silence, you ate and drank, and by the fire warmly crackling, the tribulations of the night felt distant to you and your resolve was renewed.

And it was only after you both sated yourselves and quenched your thirst, that the hermit spoke, and he said:

"I will say in the name of the Saints that I thought you at first a visage sent by the malefactors to tempt me and lead to the sin of lustful thoughts. But you listened to the prayer and it did not scare you, and you ate bread and drank water that were both sanctified by prayer, and from that I must conclude you are not a vile spirit come to test me, but rather a woman of piety that by some miracle managed to find me in the vastness of the woods."

Having said that, he grew silent again, and retrieved a log of wood that he threw into the fire, and you did not speak more for some time after that, instead sharing the warmth. And the hermit looked lost in his thoughts and you did not disturb him, quietly grateful for the hospitality that he so graciously gave to you.
It was around the time of noon that he chose to address you again.

"And who are you that found me, and what brought you to the heart of the forest, where I thought no man nor woman should ever be able to track me, and where I thought that only the wild wolf and savage boar would keep me company?"

Recognizing that there would be no wisdom in too quick of an answer, you spent some time considering how to respond. Finally, you replied:

"I was lost in the woods, and to Saint Odo's grace I owe finding you."

And you explained to him your task and purpose, of how you were intent on making way through the entire world to where the holy city of Step was, so that you could too receive a miracle and deliver your clan. And he listened to you carefully, and seemed greatly impressed by your courage and the zeal of your labours. Then he voiced his concern for malign influences that might had been besetting you, for in the fact that you had lost your way, he clearly saw the hand of the malefactors who, angered by devotion, thought to move you to despair, so that you would renounce, in the dark night of your soul, the name of the Saints and curse your task. And he explained to you that it was no idle concern, for it was a fact of life that in his time, he had heard of many bishops who forbade women from making pilgrimages, for being of naturally softer character and weaker soul, they would often succumb to temptations that await each pilgrim on his way and end up as whores or worse, the names of the Saints alien to them. Against that, he cautioned you thrice, by the name of Saint Marga, Saint Ortys and Saint Ivar. Finally, he told you that although he did not know how to find the paved road to the city of Grace, he could lead you to a village that was nearby, where you could ask for a way and be returned to the rightful track. However, he warned you as well against entering the city walls, for cities, he claimed, are festering pits of villainy and injustice, and even though the city of Grace was a bishopric, it would certainly pose many dangers to a pilgrim such as you. Instead, he suggested that you should perhaps head in another direction altogether – that he could lead you to a path that would take you to a monastery of Saint Odo, where the pious monks would host you (as it was their duty to tend to pilgrims and wanderers) and certainly would explain to you a way to the holy city of Step that would allow you to avoid the mortal threats to the soul that awaited in cities of men.

You considered his offer, and asked him…

[ ] To lead you to the village, where you would as for a route to the city of Grace.

[ ] To lead you to the road to the monastery, so that you could avoid the city of Grace.